Between the Lines
by ArthM
Summary: After Sarah saved Ethan and became a full vampire, what happened next? Set between series 1 and 2.
1. Part 1

**As a break from writing my other set of stories, this is something a bit different. It's intended to be a look at what happened to Sarah in the gap between the two seasons of the show. It's in line with the run of the series, so is nothing to do with my other stories; I don't know if that period _has_ ever been explained, but, even if it has, I hope that this will be original and interesting. ****I, of course, own nothing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Between the Lines**

* * *

"Come on, Sarah, lighten up!" said Erica, nudging her. "So you're a vampire. So what? Doesn't bother us, eh, nerd?"

Obedient, Rory shook his head, not taking his eyes off of Erica. "No. Can I come closer now?"

Erica glanced at him, frowning. He was still the regulated three metres away. "No." She turned to Sarah, who was leaning morosely against the wall. "Come on, have a drink! There's, uh, orange juice, and lemonade, and, er –"

"Tomato juice!" beamed Rory. "And, if you screw your eyes up, and try really, _really_ hard, you can almost imagine that it's blood! How cool is that?"

Sarah shuddered, burying her head in her hands. "Guys…" she groaned.

Erica sent a frown at Rory. "Look what you did," she hissed. "You've upset her!"

"S-Sorry –" started Rory. "I –"

"No, Rory, it's OK," said Sarah, sighing and raising up her head again. She tried a smile. "I guess I'm just going to have to get used to the fact that I'm a vampire. But –" She shuddered again and, seemingly, went a little pale. "I just can't stomach the thought of it right now…" She grimaced. "I can still taste it in my mouth…"

"Not in your ear?" said Erica, lightly, bending down to Sarah's level. She smiled.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Ha ha." Her eyes went vacant. "It was so _bitter_. I thought that it might at least taste of something bearable. But no. Yuck. If that's what I have to live off for the rest of my – _forever_ – then I'd rather not…"

Erica frowned. "I've never found that."

Rory shook his head in concert. "The metal tang takes a bit of getting used to, but it's not unpleasant," he said.

"It might have been because Jesse had just bitten him," reasoned Erica. "You did suck the poison out. Not all blood tastes like what you tasted."

Sarah pulled a face. "Still, I'm not in a hurry to try again, in case it does."

"Well," said Rory, "there's only one way to find out…" He tipped his head towards various partygoers.

"Rory!" snapped Sarah, scandalised. "That would be _wrong_!"

Erica stared at her. "You really are just little miss goody-two-shoes, aren't you?"

"Indiscriminately biting people? What are you talking about? Of course that isn't right!" burst out Sarah.

"Girl's gotta eat…" muttered Erica.

"_No,_" said Sarah, pushing away from the wall. "I'll find another way." She looked about, sucking at her cheeks, and wincing. "Did you say there was orange juice? I've got to have something to get rid of this in my mouth."

"I'll get it!" said Rory, zooming off across the room, sending paper cups, plates, and some of the smaller partyers flying.

* * *

"You know," said Erica, slowly, swirling her cup, "I think that you can have just about enough orange juice…"

Sarah nodded. "It tastes a bit off after a while, doesn't it?" She sighed again. "But at least it's got of that _other_ taste."

"Any more juice, anyone?" crowed Rory, swinging by with three more cups. He bounced from one foot to the other, buzzing with energy.

"Uh, we're fine, thanks, Rory…" said Sarah, wary. He shrugged, and then downed all three cups, before speeding off again. Sarah looked across at Erica. "Do you reckon there's something funny in the juice?"

"You mean in his head? I'd say…" Erica smirked. "He's always like that. It's just sugar. I've seen it in loads of little kids when I'm babysitting. He's just not developed past that stage." She grinned at Sarah. "_You_, of course, babysit teenagers, so you don't have that problem."

"You'd be surprised," muttered Sarah, darkly. Then her face clouded.

"Oh, come on, Sarah!" said Erica, picking up on her friend's expression. "You've got to get over this!"

"But he could have died! And it would have been all my fault…" Sarah looked miserable.

"Why?" snorted Erica. "It was Jesse – and it was them who released him. Well, I guess, it was Rory that summoned the demon that possessed you, and then that resulted in them accidentally resurrecting Jesse. But when haven't we been able to blame Rory for something?" She smirked at Sarah, who smiled weakly. Erica shook her head and kept on talking. "And he didn't die. He's fine, at home in bed, probably playing some video game with Benny, and having a great time." She looked around the room and then back into her orange juice. "Better than we're having, I'd reckon…"

"But don't you get it, Erica!" snapped Sarah, her eyes watering. "I'm a –"

"Girl without a date?" Sarah looked up to see a red-haired guy with glasses leaning against the wall next to her.

"Oh, hi, Sam," she said, surprised, blinking rapidly. "I didn't see that you were here at the party."

He laughed. "_Party_! This? Hardly justifies that description." He grinned at Erica. "Even the music's pretty rubbish. You two out to come to where the _real_ party is."

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? And where's that, then?"

"Out the back." He pointed vaguely, and then frowned. "I think it's that door, anyway…"

Sarah frowned at him. "Sam, are you _drunk_?"

He shook his head. Probably a few more times than was needed or normal. "No. No." He twitched his mouth up at the sides. "Not yet, at least." He smiled, and pushed off from the wall, stumbling a little. "I leave you the invitation. Or, of course, you can just have more orange juice." He glanced across the room and smiled. "I think your friend might have just about had enough, though." Giving them a small, wave, he slid off across the room.

Erica watched him go. She opened her mouth.

"No."

"What?" said Erica. "You didn't even know what I was going to say."

"Let me guess…" said Sarah. "Either you were going to suggest that we go out there and get drunk because we can't amuse ourselves properly, or you were going to make some comment about biting him. Whatever, I'm not interested."

Erica groaned. "I can see you being fun for the next _forever_."

"It's illegal, Erica! We're not even eighteen, let alone nineteen."

"Sarah, we're _never_ going to be nineteen. Or eighteen for that matter. So what?"

Sarah's lip trembled, and then she burst into tears.

Erica went to roll her eyes, but then took pity on her friend, and, uncertain, put her arm around her. "There, there…" she ventured. "It'll be OK. I'm sorry I said that, it wasn't a good thing to remind you of. But you should embrace it, Sarah! It's nothing to get upset about. You, like me, will just be perpetually young and stunning. Or, at the very least, young, which is more than half of the battle in most cases, I reckon. But if you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. We can just sit here and talk about other stuff. Or you could go and get illegally drunk and forget all about it."

Sarah sniffed. "I don't know what I want, Erica…" She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I just want to be normal. But I can't have that." She fished a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her face. She went to open a compact to check her reflection –

With a clatter, it bounced off the floor as she threw it violently away. "Something else I can't do." She stared angrily at the floor. "I just can't – I can't deal with this right now! This forever, but it's happen _now_. And it feels like everything's happening at once – and I just don't know what I feel! Nothing makes sense. _I'm_ not making sense."

She leaned against Erica, snivelling softly. "I need some time to work everything out. Space. Breathing room. Well, I guess, not that. But you know what I mean."

"I'm here for you, Sarah. I've been through it. I can tell you all the tips and tricks –"

"I don't want that!" exclaimed Sarah. "I don't want to be told how to be a vampire. I want to work out how a vampire can be _me_. How I can _not_ be a vampire!"

"Sorry…" mumbled Erica, looking down at her shoes. "I was only trying to –"

"I know, I know…" said Sarah, solemnly. She got to her feet.

"Sarah?" asked Erica. "Where are you going?"

"Out. Let's have a drink." She walked, almost like a sleepwalker, towards the door at the other end of the room. Stale crisps squashed under her shoes, and the tinny music piped over the little squeaks they made. Erica hurried after her.

"Sarah? Erica?" Rory rushed over to them. "Where are you going?"

Sarah put her arm through his. "For a proper party! And you two are coming with me."

She kicked open the back door, and dragged the pair of them out into the night. A ragged cheer rose up around the little camp fire that was burning cheerfully at the end of the yard.

"Are you sure about this?" murmured Erica.

"Oh, yes," said Sarah. "I'm going to make sure that you have a good time tonight…"

* * *

**TBC...**


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

* * *

And he was running, running, running, down the corridor, up the stairs, along another corridor, up some more stairs, out of a fire exit, and onto the roof!

Ethan stopped, his hands on his knees, panting for breath. He stared around him wildly, looking for a way out. To the left, the science block; to the right, geography. Straight ahead was nothing but a drop into the playground below. Would he be able to make it to one of the other buildings? Could he jump that far?

Whatever happened, it had to be better than –

"I'm coming to get you! Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

Ethan snapped his head around towards the door. A large shadow was lengthening against the wall at the base of the next landing down. He didn't have long. He ran to the left and leaned over the brick parapet. That was a long drop. Trembling, he backed up, to take a run up.

Then he felt two hands on his shoulders.

"Got you!" whispered Jesse into his hear –

There was a _boom_ and Ethan found himself in a yellow room. He looked around. He was alone. He looked down at himself. He was dressed in white tie. This was odd. Odder still were the little blue flecks on it. And how his hair felt wet.

His gaze travelled along his arm. He was holding a large drumstick with a felt end. He was also standing in front of a large kettledrum, the top of which was covered in blue liquid, in which the drumstick was resting. He brought the stick up and down a little, creating little splashes. So that was what that was. He must have hit it and sent the blue stuff flying. Why had he done that?

He dipped his finger tentatively into the blue liquid. It was quite thick in consistency. Unsure, but overwhelmingly curious, he licked his finger. Custard. Strange. Tasty, though. But _blue_ custard?

Oh, now he saw. That explained the line-dancing penguins. This was a –

"- dream," murmured Ethan, drowsily opening his eyes. He blinked across at the blurry red light at his left. He squinted. 8:30. He rubbed his eyes. He'd better get up. He put his arm down to push himself up, and then winced. Yawning, he rubbed his arm, feeling the two raised lump in it. At least it wasn't throbbing like it had the previous day.

Moving himself around without putting pressure on his arm, Ethan swung his legs out of bed, and dropped down. Onto something squashy.

"Ow!" cried Benny, springing awake and pushing Ethan's feet off his tummy. Unbalanced, Ethan fell back onto his bed, unable to stop himself giggling.

"Sorry, B.," he said, grinning. "I didn't realise that you stayed over."

"Well," said Benny, irritably, pushing himself up against Ethan's chest of drawers, and rubbing his stomach, "now you know."

"Why _are_ you here?" asked Ethan, raising an eyebrow.

"Grandma said that I should watch you. Just in case anything happened with, you know," he nodded at Ethan's arm, "the bite."

Ethan's mouth twitched. "And you took 'watch' to mean 'go to sleep'?"

"Well," said Benny, defensive, "it got really _boring_. And I reckoned that if there was a problem, you'd cry out and wake me up."

"Thanks, B.," said Ethan, rolling his eyes. His expression softened. "Sorry about treading on you, though. I hope I didn't hurt you."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Maybe thinner, too. Or at least squashed." Benny smiled at him, and then covered a yawn. "Are you up now, then?"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah." He grimaced. "I can't sleep now. I had this really weird dream. I was playing a drum…"

Benny's eyebrows shot up. "Really? So was I! Well, almost. There was this gong, and when I hit it, there was a really loud crash. And some dancing penguins."

"Mmm. Yeah. Anyway, onto today. It's Saturday. It's probably a beautiful day. What do you want to do?"

"Play video games?" said Benny.

Ethan smiled. "I like the way you think, Benny Weir. But let's have a little natural light." He got up, stepped carefully around Benny, and headed over to the window. He raised his arm, and then winced.

"Are you OK?" said Benny, starting up from the floor at Ethan's pained expression.

"Fine, fine. It's just a bit sore. To be expected, I suppose." Ethan lifted his other arm to open the curtains.

"I can go get Grandma if it gets too much…?" suggested Benny.

"I'll be just fine. There's no need to worry. Grandma said that I'd be OK." Ethan yanked open the curtains. Benny shielded his eyes from the unexpectedly bright sunlight. Slightly dazzled, Ethan peered out of the window. Was it him, or was there a huge smudge in it?

"That's enough light, Ethan," groaned Benny. "Close the curtains and pick a game… Ethan? What are you looking at?"

Ethan was standing with his hand on the curtain, looking down into the garden, and frowning. "There are two people in the garden," he said, in a slightly distant voice.

"Really?" said Benny, disinterested. "I'm sure they'll go away."

"I think we should go down and see them. It looks like Rory –"

"Do we have to?" whined Benny.

"– and Erica." Ethan turned away from the window in time to see the door swinging shut. He snorted with laughter at the hastily vacated sleeping bag, and, still chuckling to himself, hurried after Benny.

* * *

When Ethan reached the back door, he found Benny dithering in front of it, squinting at his reflection and fiddling with his hair. He turned to Ethan. "Do I look OK?"

Ethan ran his eye up and down his friend, and then dissolved into giggles.

Benny flushed. "What?"

Ethan shook his head, covering his mouth. "Well – well, _apart_ from the hair, do you really think that _that_ was a classy set of pyjamas?"

Benny looked down and pouted. "These are my favourite!"

"I know…" muttered Ethan. "You see, Benny, it's the red felt steam engine, followed by its primary coloured carriages. It gives you the air of, oh, I don't know, an eight year old?"

"Hmph." He scowled, then his expression brightened. "Better than Rory, then?"

Ethan sighed. "No comment… Now, are we going out there or not?"

"Er…" Benny blushed, and then threw open the door. The pair of them then walked over to where Rory and Erica were.

They were lying on the ground, groaning.

"Hey guys!" said Benny, leaning down towards them. He sniffed, and promptly leaned away.

Erica just groaned. "Can you – can you stand over there?" She pointed. Obediently, Benny shuffled around, his shadow falling across her face. "That's – better… The world – it's all too bright. And loud…"

Ethan frowned. "Are you two _hung-over_?"

Rory put up a hand shakily. "I think, actually," he slurred, "I might – I might be shtill – 'till – _still_ drunk…"

"What happened?" exclaimed Benny.

Erica winced, and waved her hand randomly in a shushing motion.

"Sorry," whispered Benny. "I mean, 'what happened'?"

"Sharah," said Rory.

"What about her?" asked Ethan, anxious. "Why isn't she with you? Is she OK?"

"Well, we were commiss – commissherat – making her feel better – about being a vampire, and then some people offered us some alcohol. Sarah dragged us out to join in. I don't remember much after that… Oh, hi Ethan. Nice pyjamas… I didn't know you were Batman…"

Ethan rolled his eyes as Rory stared up at him. Or where he thought he was, anyway. "So why are you here?"

Rory shrugged.

"We were trying to get home, I think," said Erica, putting a hand to her forehead. "But then something got in the way."

Benny glanced up at the window. "Yeah, that was the side of Ethan's house…"

"Who moved it?" grumbled Rory.

"But Sarah," insisted Ethan. "Where did she go?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know, Bat – Ethan. I just – don't…" He suddenly shivered. "Actually, guys, I shuddenly don't feel so great. Is there a bin, or something I could have…?"

"Go! Now!" barked out Benny. "Throw up in someone else's street."

After a sharp kick from Benny, an increasingly green looking Rory peeled himself off the floor and zoomed off, meandering violently as he did so.

Benny wrinkled his nose, and wondered how far he'd get. He exchanged a glance with Ethan, who looked slightly revolted.

"Erica?" tried Ethan, slightly edgy. "Can _you_ help us about Sarah?"

"If you stop shouting, yeah…" she moaned. "Well, I think she was there when we went out, but, maybe, after a few drinks, I don't remember her being there anymore. Neither of her."

"You mean she left?"

Erica shrugged. "Could have done. She definitely wasn't there when we left."

"How was she, before you went out?" pressed Ethan.

"Pretty cut up about being a vampire. And you nearly getting bitten."

"_Actually_ getting bitten," put in Benny. Ethan grimaced and scowled at him. "Sorry…"

"Where might she have gone?"

Erica shrugged, and pulled a sour face. "I don't know. Home? Where I want to go right now…" She winced, and rolled over. "Where I'm going to go now…" She pushed herself up off the ground, and shielding her eyes, ped off, a little straighter than Rory, and in the opposite direction.

Ethan nodded to himself, his lips pursed, bouncing from one foot to the other. He looked across at Benny. "Come on. We'd better get going."

"What, now?" asked Benny, surprised. "But – but we're not dressed. And we haven't had breakfast!" His stomach rumbled noisily under hi pyjama top. "Listen! I'm hungry."

Ethan shook his head. "There's no time."

"Really. OK, but when you get called on to do some vigilante justice, don't blame me."

Ethan looked down at his top. "Fine. Five minutes. Just to get dressed."

"And five more, just to get some cereal? And some toast? And –"

"Go on, go on, hurry up…"

Benny laughed and sped off back to the house.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3**

"Benny?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Are those _my_ shorts?"

"Er … um … yeah…" Benny flushed as Ethan raised an eyebrow.

"_Why?_"

"Well, when I stayed over last night – making sure that you were OK, I might add! – I didn't bring a complete wardrobe, anticipating that we'd be going on an early morning walk. And it's such a nice day that I didn't feel like my suit from yesterday was quite appropriate. Hence, you know –"

"Theft," smirked Ethan.

"_Borrowing_!" protested Benny. "You'll get them back, don't worry."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He looked at his watch. "It's well gone nine. That's hardly 'early-morning'."

Benny grimaced. "It is for me."

Ethan laughed, and then looked down at the map he was carrying. "You know, I can't believe we've never been to Sarah's before. And I didn't realise that it was quite so far away." He paused. "Left here, I think."

The two of them swung round into the next street. They walked on in silence for a while, before Ethan noticed something else.

"Benny?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Do those _fit_?"

"Yes!" protested Benny, blushing red.

"Are you sure?"

"No… But, Ethan, you _are_ something of a rat," said Benny, defensive.

"What's that supposed to mean?" spluttered Ethan.

"There's nothing of you! There are _ghosts_ who are better fed than you – we've met them."

Ethan laughed again. "Fine… fatty…" He flinched away from Benny's raised hand. "Kidding, B., kidding! I _am_ a fair bit smaller than you."

Benny looked coolly across at him. "Good."

Ethan smirked. "But if you break them –"

"Ethan!"

Ethan laughed and darted forwards a little way, out of Benny's reach. Benny scowled, and then winced. "These really are a bit tight…" he muttered. "Um, Ethan?"

"Yeah?"

"We've talked about clothes quite a bit so far today."

"Mmm. Well, if you didn't keep taking mine, and if it wasn't quite so far to Sarah's, and – uh, we should probably stop doing that, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah…" Ethan looked down at his feet. "Er…"

"We've got to be nearly there," said Benny, hurriedly inventing a new topic of conversation.

"Yes!" said Ethan, grasping on to the new thread desperately. "Just, uh, one last corner, and we're there."

"And we'll find that Sarah's been home for hours, and that everything's fine," said Benny.

"Yes," said Ethan, nodding. "Everything's going to be just fine, and we can carry on as normal."

"And we can go back and play video games?" asked Benny hopefully.

"What _else_ would we do?" replied Ethan, grinning.

"Exactly," said Benny. He raised an eyebrow. "We practically have nothing else in common!"

Ethan snorted. "Of course…" He looked down at his map. "Here we are. 34 Thibault Road."

"Hey, that's Sarah's house, isn't it?" said Benny.

Ethan looked at him. "That's kind of the _point_?"

Benny flushed. "Oh, yeah… I didn't just forget why we came here!" he added quickly.

"Course you didn't…" murmured Ethan. "Come on. Only one way to find out if Sarah's still around or not." He opened the gate. "After you."

"No, no," protested Benny. "After _you_."

"I insist!" said Ethan, gesturing with his arm.

"No, _you_ go first!" said Benny.

"No, really, after you!"

"She's _your_ girlfriend," argued Benny.

"_What!_ No she isn't!" burst out Ethan, going quite pink. "Yet…" he added, in a small voice.

"Well, near as," said Benny. "No, it should definitely be you that goes and knocks in the door. Definitely. Plus, she's _definitely_ your babysitter."

"She is not!"

"You must be Ethan and Benny," said a new voice. "Sarah's told me so much about you."

The two of them turned their heads slowly. Framed by the blue doorway of the house stood a tall woman who bore a striking resemblance to Sarah."

Ethan's mouth tried a sheepish smile. "Er, hi, Mrs, uh –"

"Sarah's mum…" supplied Benny, not very helpfully.

"Thanks, B.," hissed Ethan. He waved brightly. "Um, hi! Can we come in?"

* * *

"So she's not here?" asked Ethan, his face pale and worried. He took another sip of tea.

Sarah's mum shook her head. "She _was_ here – she left a note. I'll go and get it." She got up and walked quickly out of the room.

"She doesn't seem particularly worried," commented Benny.

"No…" mused Ethan. He frowned. "Why?"

"Here we are!" said Sarah's mum, coming back from the other room, waving a piece of paper. "It says: 'Dear Mum and Dad. I need some time away, so I'm going to use some of what I've earned babysitting to go sightseeing. No need to worry; it'll be just like last year. Love, Sarah.' So that's OK." She beamed at Ethan. "Would you like some cake, dear?"

Before Ethan could open his mouth, either in surprise or to reply, she had cut a large slice and put it on a plate in front of him. He had only just had breakfast, but, still, it looked nice… He took a bite. It _was_ nice. Carrot cake. "Thank you," he mumbled, his mouth full.

Benny looked up hopefully for a slice of his own, but when none seemed forthcoming, he nudged Ethan instead, trying to get him back on the reason that they were here. "Are you really not worried about her?"

"Oh, no," said Sarah's mum. "She usually goes off on a little trip over the summer. This isn't anything particularly unusual. She'll come back with loads of photos and stories about her time away. And she'll send us postcards and ring often. She always does." She pinched Ethan's cheek. "Maybe she'll send _you_ some, too."

Ethan blushed. "Well, maybe," he stammered, "but we've not known her that long…"

"But you've really hit it off, though, haven't you? She talks about you _all_ the time. And she goes over to your house far more often than your little sister could ever need babysitting."

And there Sarah's mum had said the magic words, Benny thought, as he watched Ethan instantly won over to her side. It wouldn't matter what she did now, Ethan would adore her, because she'd confirmed that Sarah was _Jane's_ babysitter.

"Yeah, I guess…" said Ethan dreamily.

"So where do you reckon Sarah might have gone?" pressed Benny, feeling himself increasingly shut out of the conversation.

"Hmm? Oh, anywhere really. She's got her passport, but she's probably not got enough money to fly anywhere."

Benny glanced significantly at Ethan, but it just seemed to bounce off. He was too wrapped up in his own happy little world. Oh, well. He would just have to keep the significant thought (that Sarah could fly pretty well on her own now) to himself. At least until Ethan snapped out of it.

"But apart from that? Nowhere that she might have always wanted to go? Somewhere she might go if she had a problem? Somewhere to hide?"

"Oh, you are a worrier, aren't you, Benny?" laughed Sarah's mum. "If she had a problem she'd contact home. But she doesn't need molly-coddling. Not everyone needs wrapped up in cotton wool, you know."

Benny opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "And I can't think of anywhere she's particularly talked about going. Now, Ethan, would you like some more cake?"

* * *

"_Wrapped up in cotton wool_? _Me?_" fumed Benny. "The things I've done –"

"Messed up, more like…" quipped Ethan.

"The things I've _done_ would turn her head. Inside out!"

"Benny, Benny, don't get so upset about it," laughed Ethan, nudging him in the ribs. "Of course she doesn't know. It's not her fault. Besides, you do give off an air of slight incompetence."

"Yeah, maybe, but _molly-coddled_? Hmph." Benny scowled. "And of course you'd take her part. '_More cake, dear?'_" he mimicked scornfully. "You must have had about two-thirds of that cake!" said Benny, jabbing Ethan in the belly.

"I know..." groaned Ethan, smiling, though, at the memory. "It _was_ a good cake, wasn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," said Benny sourly. "I was never offered any."

"Ahh, poor Benny," said Ethan, patting his friend's head. "Well, I can assure you that it was delicious." He grinned to see Benny's obvious sulk.

"Don't blame me if she shoves you in an oven and eats you," said Benny, darkly.

"That's ridiculous, B.!" snorted Ethan. "_You_ should know that witches don't do that. And, besides, she's not a witch! I don't know what you've got against her."

"Nothing!"

"You're just jealous, because -"

"She's fitting you up to be her future son-in-law?" grinned Benny.

Ethan immediately flushed red. "She wasn't! Was she?" He narrowed his eyes. "What would you know about that anyway?"

Benny shrugged. "Only what's in the movies. So it's either that or she really is trying to fatten you up for the pot."

"I don't - that's silly, B. - Sarah - I -" Ethan trailed off into silence. "You think?" he said, eventually.

Benny bobbed his head from side to side. "She seems to, at least."

"What, by amount of cake eaten?"

"If it is, then you're definitely winning," said Benny snidely.

"Against who?" said Ethan.

"Whom."

"Eh?" frowned Ethan.

"Against _whom_. Not who." Now Benny frowned. "I think..." He grinned slyly at Ethan. "You never know. Maybe there a dozens of potential candidates. Maybe she's got a chart somewhere."

"I can guarantee that you're not on it!" teased Ethan.

"I don't want to be. I'm on your team, remember. I'm your buddy on this. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that you make it to the top of that chart!"

Ethan beamed. "Thanks, B." Then he clenched his hands in frustration. "No! I'm not letting you drag me into thinking like, like – like _you_. There is no chart! None of this exists outside of your head!"

"That's what you think..."

"Benny!"

Benny laughed and ran on ahead. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it. But I'll be there to say I told you so. Probably on the morning of the wedding..."

"Just shut up, OK?"

Sniggering, Benny walked on, mouth firmly sealed.

"Benny?" said Ethan, after a while.

"Mmm?"

"Do you think Sarah will be OK? Wherever she is."

Benny bent his head and thought carefully. "Yes. I think so. She is, apparently, used to being on her own. I don't know whether she should be right now, but she is. Besides, she's practically immortal. She'll be fine."

Ethan nodded. He stopped walking and looked nervously at Benny, who stopped and looked back. "But - but do you think she'll come back?"

Benny smiled and patted Ethan on the shoulder. "Of course she will, E. No doubt about it." Ethan didn't look convinced, but Benny slung his arm around his friend and started walking.

"Anyway," he continued, "if there're any of us who are self-reliant, it's definitely Sarah."

"Hey!" protested Ethan. "I'm self-reliant!"

"Says the boy who got his mum to tie his shoelaces," said Benny, smiling. "How old are you now, Ethan? And most kids learn that before they go to school..."

Ethan pouted and slipped huffily away from Benny. "It's just so fiddly!" he complained. "And she's always been happy to do it..." he said, in a smaller voice.

Benny laughed. "What if they come undone?" He glanced down. "Like now?"

Ethan bit his lip. "Then I walk on with them untied," he said, defiant.

"You'll fall over them," warned Benny, wagging a finger.

Ethan made a dismissive sound. "No-one ever actually falls over their -"

A moment later, there was an embarrassed cough from the ground. "Um, Benny? Can I ask you a favour?"

Cracking up with laughter, Benny stared down at him. "And what, pray, might that be?"

"Would you - uh - could you tie my shoelaces for me?" Ethan was bright red.

Revelling in Ethan's embarrassment, Benny pretended to think it over. He glanced up and down the street. No-one around. Shame. "OK..." he sighed, and knelt down.

There was a loud rip, and then it was Benny's turn to be scarlet with embarrassment.

Unable to help himself, Ethan giggled for a moment, before adopting a sterner manner, or at least trying to. "That's the last time you're borrowing my clothes!"


	4. Part 4

**Part 4**

* * *

Sarah, as it turned out, had yet to go very far. After leading Rory and Erica outside, she'd then intended to get them drunk enough not to notice her slipping away. She'd not quite been sure how she was going to achieve this, but luckily both had taken to it rather naturally, and, in the end, she'd needed to put in very little effort at all. In fact, she'd left, not at the point that they'd forget her, which they reached pretty quickly, but before they did anything. Which now seemed likely, though probably from Erica, not, as might be expected, Rory. From there, she'd gone straight to Benny's grandma.

* * *

Tap tap. Tap.

"Mrs Weir?"

Evelyn blinked awake. She'd fallen asleep over one of her magical text books, trying to find something useful on vampirism that might help either Sarah or Ethan. Regarding Ethan, she thought he'd be OK. She couldn't find any cases of the poison being sucked out, but, since there was certainly something that made you into a vampire that was consciously given, it could, she supposed, be taken out again if done quickly. She dreaded to think how many vampiric animals Rory might have accidentally created if there _wasn't_ some kind of deliberate intention to create a new vampire.

So the poison probably had been removed. Or Ethan would become a fledgling, but there was no evidence of that so far. Plus, she'd left Benny with him. Whatever good _that_ might do. He'd seemed very insistent the previous night.

As for Sarah, well, there was no more luck in finding a way of turning a vampire back into a fledgling than there was in turning a fledgling back into a human. But, in running through the books over and over, she'd finally succumbed, and had nodded off.

"Mrs Weir?" came the voice again.

"Sarah?" she replied, placing it after a moment's hesitation. She squinted through the darkness at the door to the study. "Are you out there? Come in."

"No," said Sarah, sounding slightly awkward and embarrassed, "you have to let me in."

Mrs Weir turned to see Sarah waving on the other side of the window. She frowned. "I just did." Shrugging, she drew herself up formally: "I give you permission."

"No, no," laughed Sarah, "that's not what I meant at all!" She banged against the glass. "The window's locked. I can't _get_ in."

Mrs Weir blushed at her mistake and hurriedly undid the bolts. "Sorry." She stood back as Sarah clambered into the room. "Uh, if you were looking for Benny and Ethan, they're both at his house, but –"

"I don't," said Sarah, shortly. She bit her lip. "I want to talk to you."

A little surprised, Mrs Weir covered it, and cleared a space on one of the book-covered chairs dotted around the little room.

"Sit down, dear. Is there anything I can get you?"

Sarah shook her head. "No thanks." She sat down.

"What is it that you want to talk about, then?" asked Mrs Weir, leaning against her desk.

"Being a vampire."

Evelyn put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "I'm not sure that I know much about–"

"No," said Sarah, smiling slightly, "I know, but you might know someone who does. I don't want to go to the Council, but I want to find out more about this from somewhere. Get away for a while. Clear my head. Is there any way you can help me?"

Mrs Weir closed her eyes, and considered. At last, she thought she had something. "I think I might be able to point you in a useful direction. I don't know for sure, though. My links with the vampire world are not very good."

"Anything," said Sarah, spreading her hands. "Really, _anything_ that you can tell me is good."

"Well, I've heard rumours of a vampire in Ottawa who's been developing a more 'modern' approach to vampirism. Now, I don't quite know what that means, but, from what I hear, she's seriously upset the traditionalists – our own Anastasia among them."

"She must be a good thing, then," smirked Sarah.

Mrs Weir laughed. "Maybe that _is_ the very best recommendation." She raised a warning finger. "But – don't get your hopes up too high. She might not turn out to be that different after all."

"It's got to be worth a try, though, right?" asked Sarah, hopeful.

Mrs Weir shrugged. "It's the best hope that I can give you. And I'll keep looking for a way to turn you back. What you did for Ethan is – interesting to say the least. I've not heard of it being done before. Maybe there's something to be gained from that which could help you. But, again, I just don't know. If there is at least a way to 'manage' being a vampire in a way that you can deal with, then that's a good start."

Heartened, Sarah nodded. "I guess so. Do you know how I can find her?"

At that, Evelyn grimaced. "I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure. I don't even know her name, and only that she lives in Ottawa. I've only come across her by her reputation, and the only thing that most people mention about her in passing is something to do with 'The Fruit Bat'. But that could be a nickname or the name of a place, or something else entirely. I just don't know anything more. But your best chance is to go there and find the vampire community. You'll be able to discover much more than I ever will from here."

"Yeah…" Sarah sat up straight, her eyes staring fixedly in front of her, a determined look on her face. "That's what I'll do then. I'll fly there, have a look around, and hopefully get some answers." She bobbed her head from side to side. "They might not be what I'm looking for – and I might not like them – but at least I'll have something, right?"

Mrs Weir smiled. "That's the spirit." She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you might be able to teach Rory and Erica something, too."

At the mention of their names, Sarah suddenly seemed a little embarrassed, though she quickly recovered. "Er, make sure that they're OK, won't you?" she said.

"Why? What might have happened to them?" asked Mrs Weir, perplexed.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," said Sarah, quickly. She stood up, smoothing out the creases on the chair behind her. "I think I'd better get started."

Evelyn looked at her watch. "Now? In the middle of the night? Without saying goodbye to anyone? Without anything even for the trip?"

Sarah shook her head. "I'll go home and get some stuff, and leave a note, but then I'll be gone. I just need to get away, as quickly as possible." She looked imploringly at Mrs Weir. "Please don't tell them where I've gone – don't even tell them I was here."

Mrs Weir nodded reluctantly. "All right, then, if you're sure it's best."

Sarah smiled, and then hugged her. "Thank you."

Evelyn looked fondly at her, and then was slightly stern. "In the light of you running off without telling your parents, young lady, then it falls to me to tell you to _take care_."

Sarah gripped Mrs Weir's hand firmly. "I will. And you look after them all while I'm gone. Try not to let Ethan get them into anything they can't get out of." She smiled. "I have no hope for Benny or Rory, though."

Mrs Weir laughed. "I'll try and keep them restrained. Forcibly, if necessary."

Sarah laughed and headed over to the window. She turned and waved, before leaping out and flashing away.

Evelyn looked thoughtfully after her for a while, before reaching out and closing the window. The girl would be alright.

* * *

With a bag slung over her shoulder, Sarah paused by a bench at the side of the road. She'd left the note on the kitchen table, making some excuse in it about an early train and not wanting to disturb them. Being a full vampire now gave her an impressive ability to be stealthy. Maybe Rory hadn't been that far wrong.

That was a weird thought. But she was tired. So tired…

She'd been up since yesterday, and such a lot had happened. And now she almost regretted not waiting those extra few hours and going to bed. She _could_ have left in the morning. But she'd left her friends now. She'd arranged for a quick and painless exit.

Just in case. Because she really didn't know how this summer was going to turn out. She didn't know if she'd manage to find her way back, or if she'd even _want_ to. She had no idea what awaited her outside of Whitechapel. But she didn't want her friends to think that. Yep, she was going deliberately, with a plan, and everything.

Er…

Yeah.

So, she'd better start flying. Before the sun rose and someone thought that was weird. Before this bench became too, too tempting for a lie down and a sleep. She'd stop in the next town. For coffee, at least. But it really wasn't that far to Ottawa. How fast could vampires fly?

Only one way to find out!


	5. Part 5

**Part Five**

_Ottawa – Canada's Capital_

At least it was simple, Sarah thought, having landed directly in front of the sign. No corny slogan, forced familiarity, or even an incredibly lame pun. Direct, concise, accurate. Quite a difference to Whitechapel – _Where there's not a whit wrong! _– which was irritatingly chirpy, vacuous, and blatantly untrue. Not to mention _dated_. So, this place had some positives over home already.

Now to go in. It was a pretty big place, now she was up by it. They'd always kind of made fun of it, living near Toronto like they did, joking that it shouldn't really be the capital, but, from here, it looked like a large enough city.

She looked around. She had no idea where to start, so she crossed the road to a bus-stop and squinted at the map. This route took her to the city centre. That was probably the best place to start, though she doubted that there would be much vampire activity _there_. It was really more of a back-alley thing.

Sarah dropped her bag off her shoulder and slumped against the back of the bus shelter. She yawned and glanced at her watch. 2:30 in the afternoon. Pretty good timing. But it was so tiring… it didn't help that she hadn't slept since … well, she knew what she meant by 'sleep'. Rest. Whatever. And she hadn't eaten since – since Ethan. She grimaced. How long could she go without anything? She wished she'd got Mrs Weir to make up some of the blood-substitute. She _really_ didn't fancy aping Rory and scavenging for catchable animals.

She pondered her situation for a couple of minutes, before the bus arrived and she had to fumble in her bag for money. Luckily, she'd been prepared enough to bring change, and so could pay with the exact money. She was glad not to hold people up, and so get through quickly, and without being noticed. She slipped onto a seat and stared out of the window, watching the streets go by.

It was a slow, meandering trip into the city, but it gave Sarah time to think. She needed to find somewhere to stay; she needed to orientate herself in a new city; she needed to find the vampires. Probably a quick glance through a newspaper for unusual attacks would sort that out. After she'd found them, then she needed to look for this 'Fruit Bat'. How would she go about that?

It would probably require quite a bit of hanging around in the dodgier streets. Things to do with vampires often did. Sarah wrinkled her nose. She could take care of herself, though. She only wished that they could be a little more … normal. But that was what she was here to find out. Whether you could be 'normal' and a vampire at the same time. Should she ask the other vampires about it – when she found them, of course – or would that just shut her out? How popular was this movement, and were the 'traditionalists' still in power here, like they were in Whitechapel?

Sarah sighed. Really, a little more information would have been useful. But she had to go with what she'd got. Feel her way to an answer. As always!

* * *

"Now, Ethan, are you sure that you feel OK?"

"Yes, Mrs Weir, I'm fine!" said Ethan, drumming his fingers on the table top. "Really!"

"Show me your arm," ordered Grandma Weir.

"There's no need…" protested Ethan, scratching at the bandage on his arm and jerking it away from her.

"Just show me, Ethan. No harm in that. Won't hurt a bit." She put her hand out, and Ethan reluctantly gave her his arm. With a few quick movements, she undid the fastenings on the bandage, and then ripped it away.

Ethan gave a shriek of pain and cradled his arm closer to himself, biting his lip to stop his eyes watering.

"OK…" said Mrs Weir, "maybe I lied a little." Ethan looked grumpily across at her. "Now, I have to see it, Ethan," she said, wheedling gently, "or it won't get better."

"Promise it won't hurt?" said Ethan, in a small voice.

"It will hurt more if I don't look at it," pointed out Mrs Weir.

"Fine…" sighed Ethan. He extended his arm again. "But be careful!"

She probed the pale area gently. The two puncture marks were red, but they seemed to have healed over. The rest of his arm seemed normal – none of the livid veins from the night before remained. Ethan winced as her fingers got too close to the wounds. "Sorry," she mumbled. She looked up. "I think you'll need a bandage on this for a few days. You don't want to knock it on something and start bleeding again. After that stage has past, you'll be fine to carry on without it. I'm afraid you'll probably always have the marks, though."

Ethan smiled weakly. "A scar, eh? It'll make me look tough and thrill-seeking. Benny'll be so jealous."

She laughed, got up and went over to a cupboard, taking out a strip of fabric. "I'll wrap it up for you, but you'll need to change it daily. Keep it clean, or you'll get an infection."

He nodded, and held his arm out patiently for her to do the bandaging.

As she came over to the table, she looked searchingly at him. "Are you sure that there's nothing else wrong?"

Ethan started to shake his head, and then stopped. "It's just – about Sarah. She's gone, and I don't know where, and I can't help feeling that it's all my fault."

Mrs Weir bent her head. She felt a little guilty about not telling them about Sarah's visit, but she _had_ promised Sarah.

"I mean, if I – _ow_! – hadn't got captured, then this would never have happened –"

"Ethan," said Mrs Weir, "don't be hard on yourself. There was nothing you could have done to escape Jesse. And Sarah has to deal with being a vampire in her own way. This was going to happen eventually; she couldn't have stayed a fledgling forever. Someday, something like this would have happened –"

"But it happened _now_. Because of _me_," protested Ethan.

"But that doesn't make it your fault," said Mrs Weir kindly, tightening the bandage. "Jesse did this. And Sarah made her own decision to leave."

"I know," said Ethan, looking down, "but I just wish she'd have talked to me about it before taking off. Maybe I could have helped her. At least let her know how grateful I am for what she did."

Mrs Weir squeezed his shoulder with her free hand. "She'll be back, Ethan. And then you can tell her. But, for now, let her be herself. No-one else can do that for her." She looked down at the bandage. "There. Done."

Ethan examined it. "Thanks, Grandma." He squeezed her hand. "I just – I just want everything to be like it was."

"That's the one thing we can never have, Ethan, I'm afraid," said Mrs Weir, sadly.

"Is there any cake?" asked Benny, breezing into the room, in a new pair of shorts, and opening up the fridge. "I'm hungry."

"Except in some cases…" she murmured, her lips quirking up at the side. Ethan laughed.

* * *

Frowning, she looked out of the window. Art gallery, cathedral, tourist information office – this looked like the city centre. She put her thumb on the button and rang for the next stop. The bus drew up, and Sarah hurried off, hauling her bag behind her.

"Thanks!" she called out, stepping down. The bus driver glanced in the rear view mirror to acknowledge her. Sarah didn't see, but there was a moment of confusion before he shrugged and went back to issuing tickets.

Sarah looked around. She'd been here on a school trip, she seemed to remember, but that had been quite a while ago. She made a beeline for the Tourist Information Office.

"Hi," she said, as the elderly lady behind the desk in the tiny kiosk looked up. "I'm after a map?"

"Oh, of course, dear," said the woman, rummaging in a large rack. It seemed slightly too big for the room. "Here you are," she said, spreading it out on the desk. She pointed with a pen. "You're here, on Wellington Street. Now, if you're looking for tourist attractions, this is kind-of the main street. Everything is within a few blocks from here."

"Is there anywhere I should avoid?" fished Sarah.

The woman thought. "Not really, it's a pretty safe city, but – hmm – there's been a few bad reports recently about _this_ area." She circled a region on the map, and then put a cross in it.

"What kind of bad reports?" asked Sarah.

"Mostly crime stories in the newspapers. You know what these things are like: a few attacks and they blow it all out of proportion. It's just all coincidence, as I see it."

"Ah, right. Thanks!" said Sarah. "Oh, and, if I was looking for somewhere to stay?"

"There's a list of hotels and bed and breakfasts on the back of the map." She bit her lip. "Obviously I can't recommend any one over the others, but I'm sure you'll find somewhere."

"Great. Uh…" Sarah wondered whether she should ask. It was worth a try, wasn't it? And what was the woman going to do, except warn her off? "Have you – have you heard of a place called 'The Fruit Bat' or something?"

The woman blinked. "Not that I can remember. It's not somewhere I'm familiar with. Why? Are you looking for it?"

"Oh, no," said Sarah, "I just heard about it from a friend. I think they said it was here, and I was just curious. I must be thinking of something else." She patted the map. "Well, thanks again!"

Sarah left, the door rattling behind her.

The woman watched her go across the street. Then she reached across to the phone on her desk and dialled a number.


End file.
